Dependence
by Sam Bam
Summary: Nathan had been a Repoman for two years now, and he still can't shake the guilt of killing. Lately, though, he had been hearing a voice ... a voice that offered a mental escape from the torment.


AN: Not sure where this came from. X.x I got bored last night, I guess. Yes, I find Nathan's character intriguing. Shut UP. D8 Anyways …

I don't own REPO! or Nathan Wallace. Both are owned by Lionsgate/Terrance Zdunich/Darren Smith. I love them all.  
Without further ado, enjoy.

* * *

Two more jobs … a heart, and a kidney. Thankfully, he had a few spare minutes to himself before he had to don the Repoman uniform and go out to do his work.  
Nathan Wallace sat outside Shilo's room, on the chair near the small table. The little light given by the lamp gave him no comfort. All he saw was Marni, on the left and right sides of the halls. He saw her beautiful face no matter where he looked. It terrified him, but he knew that Marni would be looking up from above and frown, frown upon his actions and deeds. It only made sense. She had a kind heart. Why would she watch over him still?

He had been doing this for two very, very long years. Being a Repoman was surprisingly tiring … mentally, and physically. He never denied that. The scalpel cut and slashed, but he felt sicker and sicker with every organ he ripped out. With every heart torn away from the victim's newly dead body, he felt his humanity slipping away, slowly. Is this what came with the job? Did it mean becoming a monster? He had noticed something every time he put on that helmet… another voice within. A voice urging on the killing, almost seeming to revel in it. This frightened him greatly, but he managed to hold off. He would NEVER enjoy this job. He would never …  
Nathan couldn't let go of this sickening feeling inside. He wanted to curl up, lie down, and just forget that he had jobs to do tonight. He didn't want to kill anyone else. He didn't want to do it. Hadn't he done enough to satisfy Rotti?

_You fucking sick bastard. You're going to let your daughter know about what happened that night?!  
_Shilo. He couldn't let Shilo down. She was sleeping soundly in the next room, the first time this week. He was staying up, just in case she began to cry, instead of getting some sleep himself. No, he couldn't let her down.  
Nathan recognized the voice that had scolded him, however. It was coming from his own head, but he couldn't place it. He pushed it away, trying to ignore it, and waited silently in that chair. Repossessions could wait for another hour.

_Can they!? You know what Rotti will do if you're late. You're such a pathetic waste. What did Marni ever see in you?  
_Don't bring up Marni. Don't bring up Marni … leave her out of this, he silently pleaded back to the voice. He had to wonder himself; seeing him like this … what _did_ Marni see in him? She was so beautiful and so kind … he was nothing compared to her. Due to his hand, she was dead. Why did she trust him with any of this?  
He was a killer before taking on this job. He had already murdered someone … did that mean he was already a Repoman before he even started? What did it mean?

_It MEANS that you came in with experience! You should be enjoying it; after all, you already did it once. You felt that rush of killing, having someone's LIFE in your own damn hands.  
_It didn't mean that he liked it. He could never, ever like it. Every victim had Marni's face somehow. He blamed the dark. He could barely see their faces. Every last gasping breath reminded him of her …

_You_ are_ fucking pathetic. If it hurts you so much, let _me _do it.  
_How could a voice do it? How could a voice take over his job? No, it was impossible. He pushed the 'voice' to the back of his mind, and tried to think of anything _but_ his job. Rotti. Being a Repoman …

_Admit it, Wallace. You're stuck with me. You're the one that let the training get to you! So here I am. Why not use me?  
_Use? What did it mean by use? Nathan was getting more and more frightened, but he'd be damned if he'd admit that to anyone else, especially this voice! He was himself. There was no one else. Right?

_Damn straight, but you're a fucking wimp that can't even kill people without feeling guilty! How can you protect your daughter if you can't do your JOB?  
_He couldn't. He couldn't do his job. Not properly. He was so particular about it, this job, being what he was. He didn't want to disappoint his daughter. He didn't want to disappoint Shilo … he wanted to make sure that Rotti kept his end of the deal. Nathan knew he had to do his job to be able to keep everything quiet.  
The voice was right … it was right … but he didn't want to admit it to himself. Embarrassment and fear washed over him like a tidal wave, crashing down on his nerves. He didn't want to admit that he was the weak one.

_Well, you ARE weak. So stop it and let me do your work. I won't crumble under every last damn victim. I love the job!  
_He hated it. He didn't want to do it.  
_YOU wouldn't be the one doing it, Wallace! I can do it for you. Guilt-free!  
_That seemed appealing enough, but in the end, it would be HIM doing it …  
_Not you mentally! YOU'RE not the one hacking and slashing. I will be. And I will love it.  
_So he'd be free …?  
_Yes, FREE. You NEED me to keep your daughter safe. I will work for you!  
_Would he do it right? Would he be precise?  
_To keep those organs safe, I will! To see the beauty of the cut! Let me out, you scum… let me out!_

Nathan silently rose from his chair and strode down the hallway, keeping his gaze low to avoid looking at the many pictures of Marni on the wall. He turned sharply to the left, still looking down, to make sure that the real Marni couldn't notice his face.  
It had grown twisted. He could feel a sense to kill rising. He needed to get out … quickly. He descended down the staircase, and opened the secret passageway under yet another picture of his late wife. He shut it quietly, as to not wake Shilo.

The uniform seemed to come on easier than normal. A sense of excitement rose as Nathan threw on the leather overcoat. He could smell the bloodshed as he attached the arms to the overcoat. He could hear the screams of the victims as he put on the boots, equipping himself with the weapons he needed.  
He heard nothing, though, smelled nothing, as he looked at the helmet in front of him. In fact, he felt like he was retreating into another identity. A cruel snarl twisted on his face, which curled into a smirk, as the father retreated into hiding.

Inside, Nathan knew that it was to protect Shilo. It would be better, in the end, with this 'voice' doing his dirty work.  
It would be better for him. For Shilo. For his daughter …  
… But the rest of the world would never know. All they would see is a mad killer, a sadistic maniac, enjoying his job. The world would see a man reveling in his work.

The last thing that Nathan could consciously remember in his right mind was a horrifying cackle.


End file.
